


Full Disclosure

by LostGeekGwen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: BUT ITS REALLY LOW KEY, Bisexual Peter Parker, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, May finds out about peter being a spidey boy, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark acting as a parental figure - Freeform, Trans Peter Parker, a lot of crying but its OK, angst? but with a happy ending, but pre-infinity war because I do not care for that shit at all, face it he's a dad, in this house tony stark is a dad to peter and there is no death, iron dad and spiderson, lots of meme references, post-Spider-Man homecoming, really he's such a dad, ross is an asshole and in this house we hate him, this is like 5 times people find out about peter's identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-06-16 10:12:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15434775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostGeekGwen/pseuds/LostGeekGwen
Summary: When faced with an unsurmountable obstacle, Peter Parker does what he does best: avoid the issue. It's really a shame that he has a wonderful support system of friends, family, and Iron-Men-turned-father-figures that won't let him do that.Or, May finds out that our favorite boy has a part-time job as a superhero, Peter freaks out, and Tony has to drag him home to face the music. Tears ensue, but there's a happy ending.





	1. Everybody Told Me This Was Dangerous

Peter Parker was not answering his phone. 

In fact, as far as he was concerned, he did not have a phone. He did not have a suit that spoke to him in a motherly fashion. He was just a normal kid on top of a roof. He just happened to look exactly like Spider-Man. 

All of this, however, was false, and sooner rather than later he would have to face the fact that Karen was threatening to call Mr. Stark, his phone was buzzing more than a bee on crack, and the small pack of Spider-crazed onlookers wasn’t going to stop growing. 

Right now, he was a kid. A kid who had just survived a plane crash (that he caused), a kid that’s homecoming date totally got ruined, a kid that was offered a spot on the Avengers, and a kid who had darted out before May could process the fact that her nephew was the spandex-clad superhero. 

He looked at the caller ID on his phone. It was May. Again. 

“Peter, your heart rate is rising at an increasingly alarming rate, I suggest contacting-” Karen began again, but Peter waved his hand flippantly, as if the A.I. were in front of him, instead of inside his suit. 

“It’s fine, I’m handling it,” he said, as the buzzing in his hand paused again. He glanced down, just as a little girl pointed up at him. He waved, before rolling backwards back onto the roof, behind the ledge where no one could see him. 

Peter sighed. His phone began buzzing again. He had no phone. It continued buzzing. May was going to kill him. Ned was going to kill him. Mr. Stark was going to kill him, and Happy, too. Maybe the Vulture at this point, he had no clue. At this point, half of New York was just queing up to drive the stake through Peter once and for all. 

Maybe that wouldn’t be too bad. 

Peter shushed that thought before he could contemplate it. He was so totally not going down that road. His phone buzzed again. And again. What was he going to tell May? That there was no risk? That he was totally fine? If she even suspected he was in danger, he knew he wouldn’t even be allowed to speak about Mr. Stark until he’s thirty. 

“Mr. Stark told me this was dangerous,” he reasoned, to no one but himself, “I guess I just… didn’t believe it.” 

And now he has to face the music. 

And along with the buzzing came the dull throb in his shoulder, the half-heald cuts along his abdomen, and the slight bump on the back of the head that had been oozing with sticky, red, blood until recently. May, of course, hadn’t known about those, but if he had to talk to her before they properly healed, then that cat would be out of the bag too. 

“You had always seemed apprehensive about crime, I mean, you have every reason to,” he said to his phone, as if the grainy image of May next to her caller ID was actually her, “But now you’re freaking out and I don’t know what to do.” 

He dropped his hand, staring at the sky, pretending a crowd of people weren’t waiting for him on the ground and that Aunt May definitely wasn’t filing a missing persons report, “I don’t want that for you.” 

“Everybody tells me life is precious here,” he said quietly, “And that means you. That means everyone- and May, I want to protect them, I want to protect you.”

The only answer he received was another round of vibrations. 

“I kept it a secret because I wanted to keep you safe,” Peter said, remembering his ‘talk’ with Mr. Stark after the ferry, “What if you got hurt? That would be on me. I don’t want that for you.” 

The vibrations didn’t stop. In fact, the whole world was vibrating, because as he dropped his phone he saw the way his hands shook. He closed his eyes, which were damp for some ungodly reason, and shuddered. Faintly, he heard a robotic voice talking to him. 

“What am I going to tell you, May?” he laughed, “Where I’ve been every night? What I’ve seen when you thought I was in bed?”

The world began to still just as fast as it had exploded, leaving Peter by himself for a moment, before the phone began to buzz again. 

“You don’t have to be a part of this, you know,” he whispered, “You could let it go.”

But he knew she wouldn’t, and she knew she wouldn’t. May Parker wouldn’t be discouraged by missed phone calls, or angsty teens. That was one of her virtues just as much as it was one of her flaws. 

“You’re one of the only people who don’t need Spider-Man,” he said, reaching for his phone. He held it for a few moments, before making his choice. He pressed the red button, declining the call. At last, there was silence.

\-----  
Tony Stark thought he had done a good job. He had successfully mentored a growing superhero, was engaged to the love of his life, and for once he wasn’t under attack by the press or aliens. All good things had to end at some point, however. And the end began with a single phone call. 

“May Parker is on the phone, Boss,” FRIDAY said, pausing the music Tony had used for white noise. Rock always made coding, welding, or fixing less like a chore and more like a cool guy would do.

“And she is?” he asked, climbing out from under one of his cars to stare questioningly at the ceiling. Technically, FRIDAY wasn’t in the ceiling, but the speakers were, and it felt odd to talk to something that wasn’t there. 

“Peter Parker’s legal guardian and aunt,” FRIDAY replied. Tony sighed.

“Ah yes, Scary Hot Aunt May,” he repeated, dropping the wrench was holding on a nearby table, “Patch her in.” 

Scary Hot Aunt May didn’t waste time getting to the point. 

“I know he’s Spider-Man, Stark,” she said shakily, and his blood ran cold. He opened his mouth, trying to think up an excuse, then closed it. He doubted anything he could come up with would work. 

“So you aren’t inviting me over for date night, then,” he deflected, sitting down in the chair in front of his computer, discreetly giving FRIDAY orders to scan all local news sources for anything Spider-Man. 

“Stark, this is serious,” she said, “How could you even-” she paused, and Tony looked up momentarily.

“I’m not yelling at him right now,” he heard her say to herself, “we’ll do that later.” 

“Joy,” he said back, dry as ever. 

“I can’t find him,” she said, and Tony’s blood ran colder, “I have no idea where he is. He isn’t answering me, or Ned, or anyone. I don’t know what to do.” 

“What do you think I have, a tracker in his suit or something?” he said, covering up any ounce of concern with badly-timed humour. He opened up another holo-screen, and tasked it with searching Spider-Man sightings and nearby security camera footage. He pulled up a third screen, opening up Baby Monitor Protocol, and began tapping his fingers nervously as he waited for the kid’s location and vitals to load. 

May paused, “Do you?”

A single red dot appeared on a blue map, as well as some mildly alarming numbers beside that. Tony let out a sigh of relief- he wasn’t far from home. 

“Of course,” he said, “I’m not an amature.”

May didn’t laugh, and Tony hadn’t expected her too. He was word-vomiting again. 

“I’ll go retrieve our spider-boy, then you can yell at me all you want,” he offered, “How does that sound?” 

“Just… bring him home, Stark. He’s never run away like this,” May said tiredly, finally letting the full force of her fear show in her voice. Tony frowned.

\-----  
Peter heard the repulsors from a mile away, but he didn’t let it show. He wasn’t Spider Man right now. He was just a kid, on a roof, and that was a plane flying overhead. It definitely wasn’t his mentor. 

“Very convincing, Mr. Parker,” a metallic voice drawled, “You almost look as dead as you’re going to be when your aunt gets her hands on you.”

Peter didn’t move. 

“Kid?” the voice said again, this time without the suit’s overlay. It was just Mr. Stark. It was just Mr. Stark and a kid, sitting on a roof, while Peter’s not-phone remained silent and his not-suit stayed on. 

“I’m fine,” Peter said back. He was not fine, but Mr. Stark didn’t need to know that. 

“And I’m the duchess of Whales,” Mr. Stark fired back, standing over him. Peter could feel the sole of his shoulder in a lazy attempt to rouse him, and he flinched inwards when it made contact with one of his half-baked healing attempts. He could physically feel the disappointed frown. 

“Come on, Spidey. What’s on your mind?” Mr. Stark tried again, hands in his pocket. Peter pulled his mask off, still not in a sitting position, and stared at him in semi-fake annoyance.

“What isn’t?” he countered, before looking skyward again. He let him arm drop with a thump, not caring where the mask would go. 

“Well, you can take the Vulture guy off your list,” Mr. Stark tried, “I personally saw him into his jail cell. I helped decorate it, you know. Very minimalistic. My millionaire critics would be ecstatic.”

“He saw my face and knew my name,” Peter replied, “He was working with a team.”

“All security footage was compromised,” Mr. Stark said, adjusting his sunglasses in the way that signified that yes, he was involved in it, “All Vulture buddies arrested, and all tech was wiped. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

Peter didn’t respond, refusing to let Mr. Stark’s adamant signs of genuine care break his broody mood. He heard his mentor sigh, before looking skyward as well. 

“Your hot aunt on the other hand, I can’t help with,” Mr. Stark said plainly. Peter shook his head.

“Don’t,” he warned. 

“What? She’s an attractive lady, what am I supposed to say?” he said, throwing his hands in the air. Peter sat up, shoving his discarded mask away before any onlookers could catch a glimpse of his head over the ledge. 

“You don’t get to say that,” Peter said with a pointed glare, before adding, “And aren’t you like, engaged?”

“Just because I can’t order anymore doesn’t mean I can’t look at the menu,” Mr. Stark justified with the offhandedness that suggested he was joking. 

“That is in every single way the worst advice I’ve ever heard,” Peter said, standing up, “Like on a scale of ‘Let’s go to Germany’ to ‘I’m trying to break the cycle of shame’, that lands a solid ‘I’m going to need the suit back’.” 

Mr. Stark smiled victoriously, “Alright, alright. Let’s get you back home.” 

Peter gaped. Of course he would use Peter’s hatred of Tony’s hitting his aunt to his advantage in hopes of getting him to be rational. That was totally a Mr. Stark move. 

“No, absolutely not,” Peter said, sitting back down, “If I sit right here and never move, then consequences don’t exist and future dangers can’t hurt me.”

He heard the laughter under his mentor’s breath.

“Yea, no,” he heard him say, “You’re too…. We aren’t using that mindset in this situation, Pete.” 

When Peter refused to respond, he continued.

“I can’t tell you that your aunt isn’t totally about to light our asses up,” Mr. Stark said, “But I can tell you that no matter what, I’ll help you along the way.” 

Peter turned around to look at him. 

“Listen, I don’t know what this little rebellious hissy fit is about,” he said, then frowned, “No, I do understand where you’re coming from.”

Peter glanced at him expectantly, not missing the way Mr. Stark concealed a small smile. 

“Here’s the deal: I’m not taking the suit again, I’m not letting your secret get out, and I’m not letting you run away because you’re afraid of being told no,” he said, then crossed his arms,” That’s it, right? You’re scared this is going to get taken again.”

Peter nodded, folding in on himself slightly. Faintly he was aware of the breeze, thick with the scent of hotdogs, pizza, and New York sweat. A couple buildings over a pie was baking, and a couple stories below someone was having a birthday party at their office. He was just too far away to smell May’s cooking, or hear his neighbor’s loud television that was always on, and for the first time since he left he realized how much he missed it, and how correct Mr. Stark really was. 

He wants to be Spider-Man, and May wants him to be safe. Those were polar opposites. It was a “The Road Less Traveled” kind of situation, except both roads were shitty. No Spider-Man, or no home.

“I can’t promise May will react the way you want her to,” Mr. Stark said, squatting down awkwardly to be level with Peter, “Hell, I really hope she doesn’t, or I would be concerned.”

The joke falls on deaf ears. 

“But,” he said, “No matter what happens, this little thing between us? The whole mentor thing? It won’t end. You’re going places, kid.” 

Peter stared at his feet, and if Tony hadn’t been listening, he wouldn’t have heard him whisper, “Thanks.”

Tony smiled, not out of victory or pity, but out of relief. He tapped Peter on the shoulder and stood back up again, trying his best to ignore the way his backed popped and ached. God, he was getting old. 

Tony shook his head. Stark’s didn’t get old. They got results. 

“Alright, wild child,” Mr. Stark said, pointing a thumb behind him, “If you go willingly, I’ll do a flip in the suit while I carry you.” 

“And what if I don’t want to be carried?” Peter said, already standing up, brushing the dirt off of his legs. Mr. Stark took one glance at his wrists before replying.

“You’ve been busy, kid. You might need a lift,” he said plainly, voice fading to a metallic drone as the suit engulfed him. Peter looked down at his hands and frowned, watching as the tiny bits of web fluid slid around in the cartridges. Those had been the last he had on him as well. 

Maybe it was a good thing that he wasn’t choosing to run away. Hard to be Spider-Man without the webs.

And when he looked up and saw Mr. Stark, arms out, waiting for Peter, and when he thought of the total smackdown he was going to receive later via May (with awe-filled commentary by his best friend), he knew web fluid wasn’t the only reason he was happy he wasn’t running away.


	2. Sad, Mad, and Glad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunt May was no stranger to the feeling of powerlessness. She felt it when Richard and Mary Parker didn't come home. It engulfed her when she watched them bury Ben. But to see her own nephew, dressed in blue and red? 
> 
> She didn't know how to react. 
> 
> She was powerless. 
> 
> It was a good thing she wasn't the only person standing in Peter's corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I really hope you like this chapter. I tried really hard to do MJ and May's character justice. They just don't get enough screen time in the MCU. I hope you enjoy, because after chapter four, things are really going to heat up!

Ok so in hindsight, Tony could have thought it through more, but if he was going to be honest, when has he ever thought anything through? He was more of a “let’s hope for the best” kind of guy. Worrying about the future was for Rhodey and Pepper, actually qualified smart people. Tony mugged his intelligence from some cosmic god in the womb and had been grappling with karma ever since. 

Like now, when he stood in the doorway of the Parker residence, in his full suit, holding Peter under his armpits like a puppy, as Scary Hot Aunt May and Peter’s two nerd friends, (which he had way too many hours of Peter talking to Karen about, especially the girl, MJ), stared in shock. 

“Huh. Wrong apartment,” Tony said through the suit, cursing when he remembered Peter had taken his mask off as soon as they had gotten to the door. 

“Peter, what the absolute fuck,” MJ said, standing up from the kitchen table where they had all been sitting, pouring over a map and a beat-up Lenovo laptop. The TV had been turned on to the local news, blaring loudly in hopes of any breaking news on a certain spandex clad hero. As soon as Tony had walked in, Ned had grappled for the remote, turning it down a little bit before paling at the sight of Iron Man. Meanwhile, Peter paled at the sight of Aunt May. Tony didn’t blame him. She looked like she couldn’t decide to be sad, mad, or glad. 

Glsmad. 

“Peter!” she yelled, breaking out of the wide-eyed stance she had been caught in. May ran to Tony, engulfing Peter in a hug that slowly dragged him out of Tony’s arms and into hers. She ran her hands through his hair, as if to make sure he was really there, really home, and not a figment of her imagination, smiling when she saw the way his shoulders relax in her embrace. If Tony felt jealous by the way it all seemed to natural to May, to know just what to do, he would never admit it.

“Thank God you’re ok,” she said, leaning back and wiping tears that had appeared suddenly as she held Peter’s shoulders, “You could have gotten hurt, or lost or-”

“That’s Tony Stark,” Ned whispered, barely audible over May’s rambling. MJ shot him a dirty look. 

She suddenly paused, gripping the faux spandex of the suit as if she had just remembered what her nephew was wearing, “You have so much to explain to me, or so God help me I will-”

“You know, when I said that you could be the Spider-Man for all I know with all the practices you’re missing, I was joking, right?” MJ said indifferently, although by the way her hand was gripping Ned’s arm and how wide her eyes were, she was not indifferent at all. Peter smiled.

“No, no there are no smiles here- Peter, you are so, so incredibly grounded, like from life-” May continued, running her hand through her barely graying hair. Tony coughed.

“And then you run away after, well, this-” she said, gesturing to his suit with an unbelieving grin, “-and expect everything to be fine? Peter, you could die, and then what would I do without you? You know-”

Tony coughed again. May’s head shot up, and suddenly her arms were around Peter again in a defensive manner, as if she could shield him from anything behind the door frame, “And you! You’re like, some sort of enabler here. What were you thinking giving him a supersuit and letting him fight!”

“That’s Tony Stark,” Ned whispered again, a little louder and a little more awestruck. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Tony since he had walked in with the Spider Boy in tow. 

“In his defense-” Peter started, but May had none of it.

“There is no defense here, Peter!” May said, searching for the right words, “There’s no ifs, ands, or buts. You could have died so many times over and I-”

“I wouldn’t have even known.” 

Peter’s face softened, and even Tony knew that he had lost. There was a hidden understanding, from the little times he had spoken to May, that she needed him as much as he needed her. They were like a home that had gone through a hurricane- the roof had been taken, by a cruel fate of some kind, so the two walls had no choice but to lean against each other to survive the elements. Quite poetic, actually, Tony thought to himself. He should write a book sometime. 

“I’m sorry, May,” Peter said softly, looking down at his feet as if he was standing on the answers, “I just… I just wanted to protect you, is all.” 

Then Peter was crying, which made May cry, and Tony looked over to Peter’s two nerd friends, whose eyes were watering like his but more out of emotional confusion than watching an actually Hallmark-worthy scene unfold right in front of them. 

“I just,” May sniffed inbetween tears, and laughed despite it all, “I never thought that- I would like to think- As you Aunt, I…. I feel like I should have known, that’s all. I should have put two and two together. That’s my job.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, Mrs. Parker, I totally had no idea that Peter was Spiderman until like, two weeks ago,” Ned said, interrupting the heartfelt moment with his dubious nerdy charm. 

“You knew?” MJ whispered, turning to Ned with a mixture of shock, betrayal, an surprise. 

“I mean, of course,” Ned said, shrugging, “I’m his Guy in the Chair.” 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you call yourself that and intervene here,” Tony said suddenly, stepping out of the suit as the hives from the hormones present in the room crawled up his arms, “May, I’m really glad you are taking this…. More calmly than most-”

“Tony, I love you, but you need to know I am one-hundred-percent pissed right now,” May said, wiping a tear away with one hand, the other hand still on Peter’s shoulder. Peter, on the other hand, suddenly looked very, very pale. Tony gulped. 

“I just… how could you do this without a guilty conscience?” May said, pushing back her hair, with a nervous laugh, “What part of Peter makes you think ‘Oh! He’ll make the perfect crime-fighter. I should bring him to Germany and set him up against Captain-freaking-America!’?”

“It’s not his fault!” Peter said suddenly, pulling away from May, “This was my choice and this is what I wanted. Mr. Stark just saw my… abilities, and he needed my help. It was my job.” 

“Really, it was more of an internship,” Tony said, leaning against the wall. 

“I’m having a hard time grasping why fighting the avengers was in any way your obligation,” MJ said. 

“This was the Stark internship, wasn’t it?” May muttered to herself, “You were sneaking out, and quit band… you never were building a resume in his lab. You were building a warrant for your death.” 

“I have these abilities!” Peter rebuked, “I can’t just sit there and-”

“Do nothing, we know Peter, you’ve said that literally every time you’re about to do something super dangerous and stupid without Tony Stark knowing!” Ned said back. Peter blanched, MJ closed her eyes in frustration, and Tony had to get control of the situation before either he or MJ killed Peter. 

“You’re supposed to be on my side!” Peter replied, childishly crossing his arms.

“You have powers?” May exclaimed. Peter bit the inside of his cheek. 

“I’m not on your side when you crash a plane and nearly die!” Ned said back.

“You crashed a plane?” May exclaimed, even louder.

“Ok,” Tony said, holding his arms up in the ‘I surrender’ pose, “Germany was a poorly-thought out series of decisions-”

“No shit,” MJ muttered. 

“-that led to some hard choices,” he said, looking at Peter, “-that weren’t exactly smart, or safe, or sane, or-”

“We get it,” May said, “You fucked up.” 

“Exactly!” Tony said, not missing the way when May’s face fell in the ‘not the point but go off’ expression, “But I gave Peter the suit because the one he had made was going to get himself killed.”

“You made a suit,” May repeated, looking at Peter, disbelief written on her face clearer than ink on paper, “How did I not know about this?” 

“You don’t even know shit about sewing, Peter!” MJ said, glaring in the way only one of her friends could interpret as concern.

“I do now?” he tried. 

“No, he doesn’t,” Tony said, “So I made him one that gave him a chance to survive past his eighteenth birthday. He was doing this long before I met him, May.”

“But you still let him crash a plane,” she said, rubbing her eyes with her hands, then paused, “Oh my God. Peter. That was you, wasn’t it? With the Vulture and… oh God Peter.”

“In my defense, I wasn’t trying to go after him,” Peter said, wringing his hands nervously, “The Vulture just happened to be my homecoming date’s dad and he found out my secret identity. Plus, Mr. Stark took away my suit back then. I did it in my homemade one.” 

“There was zero consensual plane crashing, I can assure you,” Tony said. 

“How is that supposed to make me feel better?” May said, “Peter… I could never live with myself if you got hurt, or, or worse. All this time you’ve been… you’ve been out there and… how am I supposed to be ok with this?” 

“You aren’t,” Tony said, trying to reassure, but wincing when he saw how May looked at him.

“I’m sorry, May,” Peter said softly, hugging his sides as he kicked something invisible on the ground, “I want to say I would have told you, but I didn’t want you to worry. You don’t deserve that.” 

He looked up, over at MJ and Ned, who had known better than to berate Peter while May was.

“I’m sorry to you guys too. I lied, and Ned I kind of did pressure you to hack the suit-”

“A fifteen-year-old hacked my suit?” Tony interrupted. Peter glared at him. 

“Yes, he did, and it wasn’t fair of me,” Peter said, “I, I tried to be Spider-Man more than I tried to be Peter, which was really sucky of me. But this is really important to do. This is really…. Big. Because… when you can do what I can do-”

Peter looked at May, with a level of understanding and guilt Tony would never comprehend, “You can stop the bad things from happening. And when they do happen, they happen…. Because of you.”

Either Peter said the perfect words or the worst words, because May burst into tears again, and Ned and MJ stared at the floor. Tony sighed, rubbing his hands together as he pretended not to listen to Peter’s words of comfort. Instead he tasked himself with texting FRIDAY to send the suit home. Happy could pick him up later. 

He clapped his hands, rubbing them together as we walked further into the apartment, then turned his attention to Ned and MJ, “Alright kiddos, why don’t you head on home. It’s late out.”

“But-” Ned started, but Tony held his hand up.

“Its late, and we should leave them to talk,” Tony said, with a little too much force behind his normally flippant tone. Ned’s shoes were suddenly very interesting to him. 

“Peter-” MJ began, but Tony shook his head.

“The adult has spoken,” Tony said. 

“Well, I haven’t,” MJ fired back, turning to Peter. She crossed her arms, then looked at the ceiling, then the floor, then either wall, before finally setting her eyes on Peter.

“You lied to me,” she said, “You lied to Liz, to Abe, to Cindy, to everyone.”

“And sure,” she said with a pause, “Maybe it was about something really awesome that would totally make Eugene piss his pants, but you lied.”

“‘MJ…” Peter said, face falling as she continued.

“You also apologized,” she said, “Which was your own terms, considering the fact that if I weren’t here you weren’t going to tell me, and as I’m saying this I’m wondering if it even counts, but you apologized, and that counts for something. So if May ever decides to let you leave the house again, text me and Ned. We’ll go get pizza.”

Then she opened the door, and with one arm tightly wrapped around Ned’s arm, she walked out. 

“Dramatic. I like her,” Tony said, in the parental way that said yes, they would make a great girlfriend.

“She’s something,” May said, but there was no venom or emotion in her tone. She turned to Peter, “Why don’t you…. Change out of that, and go to bed. We’ll discuss…. Everything… later. Tony and I need to have a little chat.” 

Peter didn’t miss the way she said later. He was so grounded from like, everything. He turned to trudge to his room, balling his mask up in his hands nervously. 

“Could you leave the…. Suit, out here too, Peter?” May called after him, and Peter paused. May was going to take the suit. May was going to take Spider-Man. Technically, she had good reasons, but what if- 

\-----

“I can’t promise May will react the way you want her to,” Mr. Stark said, squatting down awkwardly to be level with Peter, “Hell, I really hope she doesn’t, or I would be concerned.”

The wind up on the building was cold, even through the suit, and Peter found his rebellious streak fading faster than he had climbed out the fourth-story window next to his bed. 

“But,” Mr. Stark said, “No matter what happens, this little thing between us? The whole mentor thing? It won’t end. You’re going places, kid.” 

“Thanks,” Peter said, not forgetting the voice in the back of his head that nagged about Spider-Man. 

What if they needed him? 

\-----

“I’m not… wearing a shirt, under this,” Peter lied, “Or pants.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said tiredly, “It isn’t anything Tony hasn’t seen. He’s a guy too.” 

“Can I at least change in my room?” Peter asked, and May pursed her lips. Right. He ran away. From the window in his room. The window that he could still climb out of now, and if he stopped Ned fast enough they could take the tracker out, then he would be home free-

But he would have no web fluid, no Mr. Stark, No Ned, MJ, or school, and no May. 

He wasn’t going to climb out the window again. 

“I’ll just turn around kid, its fine,” Mr. Stark said, awkwardly shoving his hands in his pockets in a way he thought was cool. It wasn’t cool. It was stiff and awkward, which was pretty much synonymous with the way he acted in high-emotion situations. Oh no. He was nervous. Mr. Stark was nervous, and it was because of Aunt May.

“I’ll just change in the bathroom, its fine,” Peter said, trailing off as he looked at Aunt May expectantly.

“Sure. But I want the… the suit on the kitchen table. We’ll talk about… consequences… in the morning, ok sweetie?” she said. Peter nodded dully., turning down the hallway to the tiny, cramped bathroom. 

The first thing he noticed when he stood in front of the smudgy mirror was the fact that he looked awful. He could practically hear MJ quoting, “Get some rest tall child! You look terrible! You can’t keep burning the candle at both ends tall child!” 

His eye bags had eye bags, and he had only been awake for 32 hours. Only. 

He reached for the spider emblem on his chest out of habit, fingers lingering. With a press of a button, he could be hanging up Spider-Man forever. This could really be the end of Queen’s web-slinging savior. What would Ben think? 

He had bled out, dying in Peter’s arms as he did nothing. By taking off the suit, he could be resigning hundreds of more children to that same fate. 

\-----

“I can’t tell you that your aunt isn’t totally about to light our asses up,” Mr. Stark said, but all Peter could think about was the growing pit of dread forming in his gut. May was going to kill him, “But I can tell you that no matter what, I’ll help you along the way.” 

Peter looked up, meeting Mr. Stark’s eyes. He wasn’t going to be fake and say there was ‘concern swimming in them’ or something John Green like that, but he could see the emotion. He could see the care. 

\-----

He pressed the spider, and the suit exhaled, releasing him from his spandex prison. His thrifted science pun T-shirt was drenched in sweat, and his jeans almost squelched when he twisted out of the legs (jeans could squelch?). He physically had to peel it off his feet. 

Gross. 

However, his disgust was interrupted by the sound of voices. To a normal person, the bathroom door and fuzzy…. Everything in the bathroom would have dulled the sound of people talking. But Peter was not a normal person, so he heard them just as well as he would have standing in the living room. 

“We need to talk about this,” May said, after a few moments of silence, “I… Tony, you know I can’t just… pretend everything is fine, especially because this is Peter.”

“I can’t agree with you more,” Mr. Stark replied, “For all its worth, I’m sorry, you found out like this.”

“For someone who says he’s agreeing with me, you do a pretty awful job of acting like it,” May fired back, “I mean come on, a fifteen-year-old? I trusted you with him.”

Peter heard silence from Mr. Stark, and he paused in his effort to fold the spider suit. It was so… rubbery when wet. It wouldn’t fold. 

“Everyday I sent him out thinking that he would be safe,” May said, “You can’t even begin to understand how that can feel, knowing your child could have been killed ten times over by now.” 

He heard more silence, and if he hadn’t noticed the long sigh and lack of tell-tale designer shoes on tile, he would have believed Mr. Stark had left. 

“He isn’t going to stop because you or I tell him to,” he said, “Trust me, I’ve tried. I even offered him a spot on the Avengers, thinking I could bench him and he would stop knowing he was good enough to.” 

Peter choked on his breath, actually sputtering because there was a lot to unpack right there Mr. Stark. That was a test. Mr. Stark… he wouldn’t, he couldn’t have been serious. He even said he hadn’t- and making him an honorary member? Peter knew his self esteem left something to be desired, but he didn’t think it was that obvious. He thought he made it look ironic. 

“You offered him a spot on the Avengers,” May repeated through the door. Yea, me too May, Peter thought. 

May shook her head, “For a second I was hoping he was just wearing a really realistic costume for some… dumb teenage party that he hadn’t told me about. Then he started climbing up the wall, like it was nothing.” 

“They grow up so fast,” Mr. Stark joked. Peter could feel the scathing look May was sending him. Then, there was a lull of silence, and Peter almost put his hand on the doorknob to do the walk of shame to the kitchen table. Almost. Because then there was talking again. 

“I just… this is real, isn’t it?” May said sadly, “I…. this is real.”

“Unfortunately. On the other hand, you now know Peter isn’t doing drugs in his spare time,” Mr. Stark offered, “And he’s getting in his recommended sixty minutes of exercise each day. And he’s not catfishing pedophiles while playing violent video games. The situation could be worse.”

“Once again, how is that supposed to be helpful? He’s getting shot at? What kind of aunt would I be if I knowingly let that happen?” May replied, then laughed in the way that was not supposed to be a laugh, “Are you… is this a joke to you?” 

“I use humour to deflect,” Mr. Stark admitted, letting out a long sigh, before pausing, “I meant it when I said he won’t stop.”

“Trust me, I basically raised him,” May said, “I don’t need you to tell me that.” 

“I just… I don’t want him to do it, Tony,” she said, “Is that selfish? He’s all I have left. He’s… he’s so smart. He doesn’t have to help people by putting his life on the line like this.”

“But he does-” Mr. Stark said, “-Which is why he’s such a good kid. Good job on him, by the way.”

May let out a shaky laugh, “Thanks. He thinks the world of you, you know. If you were to hear you say that, he would actually cry.”

“Oh, I know,” Mr. Stark said, before whispering, “He can hear us right now.”

“Underoos? I think May needs the suit now,” Tony called out, knowing full well he could almost think it and Peter would hear. 

He groaned, wiping the stray tears from his eyes as he stomped out of the bathroom to a grinning Mr. Stark and a baffled Aunt May. He dropped the suit unceremoniously on the table, not caring how much of a teenager he was being, before stomping back to his room. It didn’t change much, considering the fact that closing his bedroom door was equal to standing next to Tony Stark’s mouth and putting a piece of paper between them. 

“The kid has enhanced hearing. And sight, smell, taste and touch,” Mr. Stark said, “Not to mention enhanced healing, Steve Rogers-style strength, and a natural adhesiveness he can control in low-stress situations. He really has it all.” 

“I just…. I feel so….” May trailed off, before taking a quick breath, “I’m supposed to be the person he can turn to no matter what. Not some… celebrity he met under a year ago. No offense.”

“None taken. Trusting me is an awful decision, really,” Mr. Stark said, gesturing with his hand. There was a beat of silence where Peter could imagine another evil Aunt May eye, and then another beat of silence, “Sorry. Deflecting with humour.” 

“Listen, May,” Mr. Stark said, “You’ve had an extremely long evening. If you don’t mind, I think it would be best to leave you and Peter to get some rest, because he can still totally hear us, and knowing him, he’s eavesdropping right now.”

There was a brief pause, and the quick scratch of pen on paper, “Here’s my personal number. Call me and we can talk more.”

“What about the suit?” May asked, dubiously. 

“What about it?” Mr. Stark said, “I promised the kid I wouldn’t take it back, and knowing him, he won’t sneak out to fight crime without your consent. The guilt of stealing would eat him alive. You can handle the responsibility of letting it sit in your living room for one night.” 

“So I’ll see you tomorrow then?” May asked. 

“Consider it a date,” Mr. Stark said back. May laughed.

“I won’t,” she said. 

“The sooner we talk about this, the better,” Mr. Stark said, serious again as he nursed a slightly bruised ego, “I want to give you more of an explanation then a series poorly-described dangerous crimes he was involved in stopping.” 

“Oh, and Peter?” Mr. Stark said, in the same tone, “Go to bed. The suit’s been tracking your vitals, and they’re actually shit. Get some rest.” 

\------

In the end, Peter was still allowed to be Spider Man. 

With a whole lot more… helicopter parenting than before. Before, all he had to worry about what not deploying a slew of Iron Suits to pull him out of rivers. Now he had a curfew, lab days, daily check-ins, and a GPA he had to keep under control.

The GPA was the only easy part of it. 

In the end, Peter still somehow had MJ as a friend, who’s version of talking over pizza included yelling at him for fifteen minutes and thirty-two seconds about how genius his web fluid was but how dumb he was being, thinking he could just walk off a gunshot wound. Ned agreed with her, much to Peter’s disdain. 

“Someone has to manage your brand,” she had said before chemistry one day, dropping that day’s issue of The Daily Bugle on his desk. Peter glanced around, and when he was sure no one was listening, he read the headline.

Queens’ Spider-Creature: A Menace? (more on page 4) 

Under the headline was a grainy image of him, clinging to a lampost while a slime monster stood, mid-swipe. Right. That had not been one of his better days. The suit had been sticky for a week afterwards.

“The Spider-Creature has only been seen in three different settings: The Avengers ‘Civil War’, The D.C. Monument Bomb Scare, and the crime-riddent streets of central Queens. It seems that ever since it has entered the media’s gaze, it only attracts more danger…”

“My brand is awesome,” Peter said. MJ stared at him. 

“Yea, its not,” MJ replied, sliding into the empty desk beside him, “If you want good PR, let me help your internet presence.” 

“Mr. Stark said that was a bad idea,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He hadn’t outrightly went against him ever since the Vulture incident, and he wanted to keep it that way. 

“Since when did we listen to what Stark says?” MJ asked, “I know you already have a Guy in the Chair, which is a dumb name by the way, but you could have someone at the computer.” 

She held her hand out, as if they were making a business deal instead of discussing Peter’s strange extracurriculars in the corner of a classroom. Peter stared at her.

“Well?” she asked, “I’m doing this whether you shake on it or not. You need help.” 

Peter sighed, and shook her hand. By noon the official Spider-Man twitter had thirteen-thousand followers and was verified. MJ was almost a little too proud of herself. 

“Sure, you’re verified on twitter, but are you verified in the eyes of God?” Ned had quoted, scrolling through the account on her phone with one hand and eating the school’s awful excuse of a hot dog with the other. He took a bite, and Peter laughed when his face fell into shock, horror, disgust, then acceptance. The four stages of cafeteria food grief. 

“Bold of you to assume I’m not God,” she said back, taking the device back. She took a bite of her sandwich, before shutting her phone off and setting it on the table. 

“So, are you going out tonight?” she asked, turning to Peter, who jumped at the mention of his name. 

“I mean… I don’t have anything planned, if you want to do anything-”

“No, not like that,” she sighed, “Are you going out tonight?” 

“I go out almost every night, MJ,” he replied, “Why?” 

She glanced at Ned, “Can I watch?”

“Watch what? Me patrol?” Peter asked, before shrugging, “Sure, I guess. It might be really boring though, so don’t expect it to be a-”

“Great. Text me when you leave, and I’ll go to Ned’s place,” she said, standing up as she gathered her trash into a pile, “See you tonight.” 

“So is she like, your Liz now?” Ned asked offhandedly, after she was out of earshot. Peter hit him on the arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I wouldn't write past the confirmation that Peter can be a spider-boy again, but here I stand, giving MJ what she deserves.


	3. Unwanted Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don’t tell anyone, but Tony Stark was listening to ABBA. Tony Stark was listening to ABBA, and he was dancing.
> 
> The mere thought was pure heresy. 
> 
> It wasn’t as if he had specifically gone for ABBA, everyone with half a brain in their head knew good and well that Tony Stark’s do or die band was ACDC, but Peter’s playlist and terrible love of 80s pop had snuck into Friday’s mix, and it all went downhill from there. Besides, he just hit the two hour mark in his latest workshop binge. To get up would to shuffle all his thoughts, and he wouldn’t be this freely productive for another week. ABBA wasn’t that bad, and it definitely wasn’t worth disrupting his work binge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Long time no update- and no, I haven't forgotten about this. I've just been super busy. Now folks... here is where the plot really picks up, no lie. The summary is misleading... this isn't all rom-com references and happy families. 
> 
> On that hand, I'm so sorry for all the pop culture references. I meme the pain away.

Unwanted Guest

Peter Parker was not trying to be creepy. 

He hadn’t meant to get to the lab so early, in fact, it actually was Mr. Stark’s fault, so really Peter shouldn’t be subjected to any of his teasing. He was the one that had told Happy to drive to Midtown to ‘grab the ward’. He was the one that wanted some non-superhero mentor/mentee bonding time. So really, it was Mr. Stark’s fault that Peter had sat alone in the world’s (minus Wakanda’s) most advanced lab for three hours, working on his AP chemistry homework. And it definetly was Mr. Stark’s fault when he forgot Peter had been waiting. To say that Mr. Stark was surprised when he saw Peter grinding through unit conversions (which was just busywork) was an understatement. 

“Jesus kid- someone would think you lived here or something,” he grumbled, no malice behind his words. Peter suspected Mr. Stark had some sort of attachment to him, or at least, he hoped he did. Once again: Peter Parker was not trying to be creepy. 

“Or something,” Peter said cheekily, scribbling down several more answers onto his homework. He kept his head down, but he didn’t miss the weird look Mr. Stark gave him.

“Hey,” he said with a frown, “Respect your elders.”

Peter stuck his tongue out.

“Typical,” Mr. Stark sat down at one of the wide metal tables across the lab and dropped a pile of folders on the table. The sound made an offensive thunk, just loud enough to make Peter flinch but soft enough to know that they were actually important and couldn’t be thrown about without consequence, “What brings you here, anyways? You’re not hiding a stab wound again, are you? Because that was not a funny April Fool’s joke, Parker.” 

Peter’s eyebrows creased. Mr. Stark was the one who invited him over three hours ago. Mr. Stark was the one who had his personal forehead of security drive to his school immediately after he was let out. Mr. Stark was the one that left him alone for three. Hours. Really, Peter should be the one asking why he’s here. 

“Well, Happy picked me up, he said you wanted to do some lab time, but you weren’t here so…. I kinda waited. I can leave, if you’re busy,” Peter said carefully, staring the stack of folders that Mr. Stark had been stink-eyeing since he had walked in. 

Mr. Stark paled.

“Oh kid, I’m so sorry,” he said with a groan, and Peter’s mood began to drop, “I totally forgot about that. Ross scheduled a bunch of meetings and Pepper wouldn’t let me bail, so it completely slipped my mind that Happy brought you over-” 

“Ross?” Peter asked, hiding the hurt behind a nosy question. Mr. Stark had forgotten him. Of course Mr. Stark had forgotten him. Mr. Stark was a major influencer of one of the most advanced tech giants in the world. Mr. Stark was Iron Man. He had no reason to keep up tabs with a random kid from Queens. He had no obligation to invite him over and be there- 

“Don’t interrupt me while I’m apologizing,” he said, pointing at Peter, “Now please tell me you haven’t been here that long.” 

“I’ve only been here three hours,” Peter shrugged, using nonchalance to hide the tears that had- crap, tears were forming in his eyes- “I got a part of my homework done, so I-”

“Three hours?” Mr. Stark sighed, “Kid, I am so sorry. You have full permission to do something stupid and rebellious that will make me mad.”

“Really?”

“No,” he said, with a pointed look, “But seriously, that’s on me. It won’t happen again.” 

“It’s fine, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, shoving his disappointment under a smile, “Plus, you’re here now. We can still hang out.” 

“I guess,” Mr. Stark said, eyeing the folders again. They were the thin paper ones, the types that May bought for Peter in bulk during back to school sales for 3 cents each. Except unlike Peter’s cheap folders, these were stamped in a conspicuous navy blue ink “[CLASSIFIED]”. Each one was filled with half a tree’s worth of paper, and Peter became acutely aware of why Tony was so techy. That looked physically painful to both the folder and to anyone dumb enough to want to page through it. 

“I can leave, if you’re busy,” Peter said awkwardly. He glanced back down at his chemistry worksheet before stuffing it back into his backpack, which sat at his feet.

“No, its fine, Underoos,” Mr. Stark said, “You’ve waited this long, you should get some ‘us’ time.” 

“You make it sound like we’re going to play catch in the backyard,” Peter said with a laugh. He laughed again, causing Mr. Stark to stare at him weird. Peter Parker was not good at hiding emotions. 

“I mean…” Mr. Stark trailed off, looking behind him to the endless expanse of skyscrapers and not-backyard, “If you’re absolutely dying to, I’ll find a way.” 

Peter smiled, “I would beat you.”

“How can you beat someone at catch?” 

“My young boy bones and muscles would be so much better at throwing the ball than you,” Peter said. 

Mr. Stark opened up a hologram screen, appearing disinterested but glancing up to fire back, “I’d build a ball-throwing suit specifically to annihilate your game.” 

“Because you’re too old to throw it yourself?” Peter asked. Mr. Stark looked up again, eyebrows raised. He grabbed towards his desk, hand searching for the first thing he could lovingly throw at Peter.

The closest thing to him was one of the paper folders.

Even with Peter’s super-powered reflexes, he wouldn’t have been able to stop it. The folder flew through the room in a graceful arc of regret, landing on the ground with a slide that sent the papers forward, to Peter’s feet. He only caught a glimpse of one paper before averting his eyes, but it was enough.

‘DEPARTMENT OF SECURITY CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE SPECIAL REVIEW: QUEENS-CENTERED SPIDER-MAN’

Oh. 

Mr. Stark had forgotten Peter because of… Peter. Because of Spider-Man, and the fact that he wasn’t an Avenger or was old enough to sign a legally-binding document such as the Accords. He had forgotten Peter because of the mess he had made at Germany and Homecoming night. That’s why Mr. Stark was so stressed out. Because of him. His disappointment morphed into something stuck between shame and dread. 

“So…. uh… Spider-man,” Peter said, glancing up to Mr. Stark, who’s face looked horrified. 

“I’m not telling them anything,” he swore, striding across the room to gather the papers up. Peter stooped down as well, grabbing as many papers as he could without reading the content, “It's just Ross that cares about it anyways. He has a Napoleon complex, I swear.” 

“Would it make things easier?” Peter asked, “If you told them, instead of… deflecting.”

Mr. Stark looked at him, “Not at all, kid. At least not right now. Not with the way the government sees guys like Spider-Man.” 

‘REVISIONS TO SLOVAKIA ACCORDS: SECRETARY OF STATE THADDEUS ROSS’

“Will I have to sign the Accords?” Peter asked, shuffling that paper under a few other boring, safe ones about Iron Man’s influence. 

“No,” Mr. Stark said forcefully, grasping for the papers erratically, “You aren’t an Avenger, so no Accords for you.”

‘STATEMENTS REGARDING SUPERFLUOUS USE OF IRON MAN SUIT TO CENTRAL NEW YORK AND QUEENS AREA’ 

Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, not ignoring the seed of guilt that replaced it, “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Mr. Stark said, “It was a really mature choice. Besides, you’ll have a chance again after you graduate college.”

“Really?” Peter asked, looking up with a grin. 

“Really,” he said, “Starks don’t take no for an answer before trying again. So after you’re out of MIT, I’ll offer-”

“After I’m out of MIT?” Peter asked, “What if I go somewhere else?”

“Then you’re dead to be, kiddo,” Mr. Stark deadpanned, “But seriously: don’t worry about…. All this. I have it covered, and no one is going to find out about your crazy night life. Not even Secretary Ass.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“You hungry, kid?” Tony asked, then glanced up, “Wait, don’t answer that, you definitely are hungry-”

“But-” Peter shook his head. 

“No ‘buts’ when I’m feeling guilty, Underoos,” he said, “Now, what do you want?”

 

\----

 

Peter Parker was not having a busy night.

Sure, he had two AP assignments, an English test and an art project, but school was…. Trivial in the face of fighting crime. Despite Aunt May’s and Mr. Stark’s objections. 

Honestly, he had hoped for more. It was MJ’s first time watching a patrol, and she had been excited (she gave them two whole fingers guns and a raised eyebrow. She was opening up to them). After hour one the energy started to dim, and bits of silence settled in. After hour two she was staying to be polite. Halfway through hour three Peter was put on hold as MJ and Ned ate dinner, and by hour four, Peter realized they must really be friends if she’s hanging around at Ned’s house this long. They’ve resorted to talking about algebra homework to keep conversation. 

Maybe people had heard Spider-Man was out and about and decided to stay in for the night. Maybe something else was going on. Something… sinister. Even if he was bored, Peter couldn’t let himself get distracted. He had friends to entertain and a city to protect. No weapons deals, war criminal superheroes, or alleyway gunmen could stop his laser focus.

“So like, if you had to choose between only drinking water or drinking anything you want with like a little drop of pee in it, what would you chose?” Peter said, “And like, this would be a forever choice.” 

Like he said. Laser focus. 

“It depends. Would the pee have to be yellow?” a voice asks, crackling through different parts of the suit. The comms Ned had set up were mediocre at best- the range was small, it tended to lag every other week, and it always sounded like Ned was talking through three iron man suits. However, it was the only way to talk to his friends without meddling with the Spider Suit itself (which Mr. Stark had been very adamant in telling them that was off limits). 

“Can we stop referencing Netflix movies?” another voice asks tiredly. 

“No,” Peter said with a grin, moving from a ledge he had been sitting on, “Ned is the Peter Kavinsky to my Laura Jean Cubby, the Sixteen Candles to my Fight Club, the korean yogurt smoothie of my eye-”

“That wasn’t even a quote between LJ and Peter,” MJ interrupted, “If you’re going to be dorky, do it right. He’s the Josh to your Margo.”

“This implies I’m going to break up with Peter,” Ned argued. 

“You guys aren’t dating in the first place,” she fired back.

“MJ, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Peter said sarcastically, and all three of them laughed. For a moment, they’re a normal group of friends on a normal Friday Night. There’s no Spider-Man suit between them and no need to speak through juiced-up radio channels.

Then that moment ends. 

“There’s a reported crime at the corner of Oakland Gardens and Bellaire, Peter,” Karen said, as Peter continued swinging through the busy streets of New York, only pausing on his route to pose for mid-air pictures for the few civilians still outside. MJ’s social media accounts were working. So what? He waved at a black car that had slowed to a stop in awe of the web-slinging vigilante. Queens was the home of the best fans.

“That’s great!” Peter said, grinning under his mask. He would rub his hands together if they weren't currently working to keep him from falling, “What kind of crime are we talking?” 

“It’s an armed robbery, that’s currently still going on,” Karen answered. Peter fist pumped, narrowly missing a wall. He looked behind him, making sure no one saw that mishap, but all there was in the small neighborhood street was another sleek black car. It must be a new fad. Or Happy. Had Peter done anything wrong lately? 

If he had either Happy or Mr. Stark would have called him by now, but he received no messages, just the faint sound of a car trailing him.

“Wow, you’re really choked up about that, huh?” MJ muttered. 

“We haven’t had anything all night, MJ,” Peter justified, ignoring the vehicle, “It would be nice to, I don’t know, do something good instead of just looking cool.” 

"Trust me, you aren't doing either of those right now," she said flatly. 

“Maybe all the villains decided to catch up on beauty sleep,” Ned said with a yawn, “What is your curfew again?”

“Flexible,” Peter answered with a mid air flip. 

“With the Stark? No way,” MJ said, “I’ve seen him. He’s a helicopter dad.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Mr. Stark doesn’t have any kids.”

“Sure he doesn’t-” 

“Anyways, Ned can you get the security cam footage for me? I want to see what we’re up against,” Peter asked, almost tripping on a ledge as he ran along the Queens sky line. In his peripheral he saw another dark car, and as it sped up to match his route, he felt the hairs on his arm stand up. It passed him, going forward, and the feeling disappeared. 

Strange. His spidey sense is never wrong. And it never came and went that quick. 

The sun had just disappeared under the horizon, and mixed with light pollution, it cast a yellow-indigo ombre across the sky. The city was beautiful at night- The moon was a spotlight, and New York was a stage. The buildings jutted out of the ground like black cutouts, framing the sky like a painting. When he had first gotten his powers, he couldn’t imagine ever loving it again. Fourteen-year-old Peter had laid in his bed, cursing every scent and sound under twelve layers of blankets. But now, with the help of the suit and the human ability to get accustomed to anything, he couldn’t think of a better place to be. He saw every detail of the city below him, he felt the texture of the bricks through his webs, and he could hear the singing and chatter of friends and family turning in for the night. The revv of a car engine growled below him. Another black car. Someone nearby was making italian food, humming along to clammar of their pots and pans. 

New York was beautiful. 

“I got you, Spider-Man,” Ned said, and he could hear the distorted shuffling as he moved from one computer to the other. After a couple clicks from a keyboard older than himself, Ned returned to the mic.

“I got three dudes, two have guns but I can’t tell if they’re real. All wearing masks… oh look… there you are,” Ned said.

“Really?” Peter asked, as a car passed him through the streets, “How close am I?”

Instead of a reply, he heard laughter, “No dipshit, someone is wearing a Spider-Man mask.”

“You know, imitation is the best form of flattery,” Peter said thoughtfully. Watching through Karen’s interface as his suit got closer to a red X. 

“Not two minutes after I painstakingly dragged your reputation out of the gutter,” MJ said.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Peter said defensively.

“The Daily Bugle is nicer to Stark than it is you, Peter,” MJ fired back.

“Touche.” 

Peter stopped, crouching on the ledge of a particularly expensive-looking building. He leaned forward, reading the sign upside down, and frowned. A jewelry store. Its always a jewelry store. 

He carefully put his hand out on the wall, testing the resistance before going full Spider and crawling down to the storefront windows. Inside, he watched as the yellow-white beams of flashlight phones moved like lighthouse beams across the store, occasionally catching in the broken glass or thousand-dollar gemstones. Eerily enough, there was no tell-tale screech of a security alarm. 

“Inside job?” Peter asked.

“I’m still running facial recognition, but with the masks its pretty hard. I’m trying to match build and gait to past footage-” Ned said, pausing to take a drink of water “- but an emphasis on trying. Why don’t we let Karen take a stab?” 

“Karen?” Peter asked politely, crawling up above the wall right before a beam of light exposed him, “Initiate Spill the Tea Protocol.”

“Oh my God, its called-”

Instead of Karen interrupting, the shaky audio of a recorded vine played, “Spill the tea…. What the fuck? You said spill the Tea!”

Then there was a robotic hum, and Karen’s voice was back, “Protocol completed. I've Identified Phineas Mason, Jason Brice, and Mac Gargon. There is also a heavy presence of unknown tech on all of them. I would be careful if I were you, Peter.”

“Careful is my middle name,” Peter smiled. A deafening silence begged to differ, however. That and a black car in the corner of his eye. 

“Who are they?” Ned asked, ignoring Peter. He leaned back to the window, squinting his eyes as the vision zoomed in. They weren’t even going for the diamonds, they just kept walking the isles of the store, as if waiting for something to happen. Very un-robberesque.

“Former Affiants of Adrian Toomes, alias Vulture,” Karen responded, “I recommend contacting Mr. Stark, as taking on three armed men in a dark environment isn’t being careful.”

“Its fine, Karen, don’t make Mr. Stark lose sleep over nothing,” he said, moving to the side of the building to crawl down. He swallowed the momentary panic at hearing Toomes’ name, focusing instead on the ‘robbery’, “Ned, can you identify the weapons for me?”

“We should call Tony Stark, Peter,” Ned warned, “If there’s weird mumbo jumbo, then-”

“Wait, wait, wait a hot second Ned, did you just say, with your own mouth, ‘mumbo jumbo’?” MJ interrupted. Peter smiled, letting MJ turn the conversation away from the crime for a moment, as he racked his brain. Toomes’ lab was full of junk and names and… their names had to have been recorded right? Mr. Stark said he had rounded everyone up, unless-

The building collapsed. All the files stored solely on the computer were lost. That meant that countless baddies could be out there, knowing exactly who he was, who May was, who Ned and MJ were, and Peter was none the wiser. He twitched his finger, impulsively reaching for the release on his web shooters. He wasn’t letting anyone get hurt. 

“-I’m trying something new here, ok?” Ned justified, “At least I’m not making awful jokes in a skin tight body suit.”

“Hey, don’t lash out,” Peter said, peeking around the corner of the store. They were still walking in a pattern. Odd, “We can’t all be masters of funky fresh teen lingo.” 

“Talking to you was a mistake,” MJ sighed. Peter reached over the corner of the store, aiming for an arm. If he could pin down Guy with Gun One, he could leap across and get Guy With Gun Two, and intimidate Other Guy for intel. If he was quick, he could call the authorities, send a quick text to Mr. Stark, and grab taco bell in under ten minutes. 

“It’s game time, guys,” Peter whispered, “Karen, play my crime playlist.” 

On his command, a steady beat followed by a memorable guitar riff began to fill the comms. MJ groaned. 

“Don’t tell me you’re playing-”

“Coming out of my cage and I’ve been doing just fine!” Ned sang, and MJ groaned. Peter threw his hands back, snapping both his fingers. It was the closest he could ever get to cocking his webshooters. Show time. 

“Pew, pew pew pew!” He said, turning the corner as he sent a slew of webs flying towards GWAGO (Guy With a Gun One). Within second his arms were pinned to the wall behind him, with a good portion of his leg stuck too. He didn’t look pleased with his current predicament. 

He turned to GWAGT (Guy with a Gun Two), sending a few more webs before ducking to the ground, moments before a round of shots rang loose in the store. Some hit the miraculously intact windows, creating a flurry of shards raining down on top of Peter. He was up before GWAGT could reload. 

“That was a little extreme, don’t you think?” Peter asked, webbing the gun to the wall. Instead of answering, the man in question only scowled. He kicked a crystal towards Peter. It was a diamond. Peter frowned- the thing was huge. If they were going after gems, then where was the bag? Why was all the jewelry just laying on the ground? The place wasn’t robbed, it just looked that way. 

“Hey, if you guys aren’t here to rob the place, then why-”

The words died on his tongue. Suddenly, every hair on Peter’s tiny teenage body stood up. Saturated color flared in the corners of his vision, and his fingers curled with instinctive tension. Every voice in his head screamed at him to run, to move, to dodge. Gun. Guy with a Gun Three. 

“Spider-Man,” a low, drawn out voice said. Peter didn’t need to turn around to know there was a pistol aimed point-blank at his head. He heard MJ cuss through the comms.

“Howdy,” Peter said back, slowly raising his hands above his head. No one (especially him) needed to be shot right now. That would be a one-way trip to Lecture Town, and after the one he had from May that fateful night a month ago, he wasn’t in need for another for at LEAST three more days. 

“They told us you would be harder to catch,” GWAGTH said, walking closer to Peter, and every alarm went through his head because he could hear the sound of the handcuffs in his hands, which was not a good sign. 

If they had been planning for Spider-Man, then they had came with something stronger than civilian handcuffs. Mr. Stark would be so pissed if Peter let himself get kidnapped.

“They told you right,” Peter said, dropping to the ground as GWAGTH reached out to grab his wrist. With a swift kick to the legs, he was resting on a bed of glass shards. Peter turned around, already cringing, but he was not quick enough. GWAGTH was not disarmed.

“Peter? Peter he’s-” 

Bang. 

Through the shattered window, he saw a man climb out of a dark black car, and he knew he had to run. 

He had seen that face before, heard his name.

Secretary Thaddeus Ross.   
-Twenty Minutes Prior-

Don’t tell anyone, but Tony Stark was listening to ABBA. Tony Stark was listening to ABBA, and he was dancing.

The mere thought was pure heresy. 

It wasn’t as if he had specifically gone for ABBA, everyone with half a brain in their head knew good and well that Tony Stark’s do or die band was ACDC, but Peter’s playlist and terrible love of 80s pop had snuck into Friday’s mix, and it all went downhill from there. Besides, he just hit the two hour mark in his latest workshop binge. To get up would to shuffle all his thoughts, and he wouldn’t be this freely productive for another week. ABBA wasn’t that bad, and it definitely wasn’t worth disrupting his work binge. 

After the fourth round of pop so happy it made his glucose levels dangerously spike, he found himself giving into the superfluous synthetic riffs. 

“Under attack, I'm being taken- About to crack, defenses breaking,” he hummed under his breath, as the overhead speakers in the lab blasted the chorus, “Won't somebody see and save a heart? Come and rescue me now 'cause I'm falling apart.” 

Every half-note his foot would tap, and as he fiddled with the coding for a new repulsor his head would rock back and forth, the hauntingly relatable lyrics unable to ruin his good mood. So what if the kid was rubbing off on him? At least he had a good taste in music. 

“Under attack, I'm taking cover- He saw my track, my chasing lover. Thinking nothing's gonna stop him now. Should I want to, I'm not sure, I won't-,” he hummed again, swiveling around in his chair.

He was face-to-body with tan khakis, “-know how….”

Tony’s eyes trailed up, to the disbelieving look on Connenol Rhodey’s face. He groaned. 

“I didn’t think you were an ABBA fan, Tones,” he said dryly, and Tony turned back around just as the lyrics came back on. He hated how he knew Rhodey knew he knew the words. 

“Tell anyone and your body won’t be found,” he said, plugging in more numbers and phrases as he drafted up another protocol. It would be called ‘Don’t Let James Rhodey Hear You Sing To ABBA’,. 

“Alright Black Widow,” he said, leaning against one of the many stainless steel work tables populating the lab. Tony got back to work, stiff as a board as if had not spent the last two hours work-dancing to the angelic voices of the 80s and way too aware of Rhodey’s presence. 

“Isn’t this in Momma Mia?” he asked. Tony flung his arm back, playfully shoving him away. 

“Did you come down to make fun of me or to actually do something useful?” he asked, writing another line of code. Rhodey hesitated. Rhodey never hesitates.

“Ross is on the line in the conference room,” he said slowly, “He wants to talk with you.” 

Tony sighed, his good mood fading with the final chords of ‘Under Attack’, “Of course he is.” 

“He’s not exactly… in the best mood, either,” Rhodey continues, “He knows you have means of contact with Them, but he has no proof.”

He was suddenly way to aware of the fossil phone sitting in his back pocket, with only one contact in it. The unspoken Them. The Rogue Avengers. Cap

Tony closed the program on the holo screen, “Perfect.”  
\---  
It was not perfect. 

“I’m not an idiot, Stark,” Ross said, gesturing with his hand. The camera shook every twenty or so seconds, and the sound of cars zooming outside were audible over the speakers. Ross was on his way to an ‘important meeting’ but had still had the energy and time to chew Tony out while he could, “I know you’re in communication with them. Withholding crucial information during a criminal investigation not only violates the Sokovia Accords you signed, but violates U.S. law.”

Tony would beg to argue, but then again, Stark’s didn’t beg. Starks got results. The same back-and-forth conversation had been going on for almost an fifteen minutes now- Ross would say something vaguely accurate, Tony would play it off, reveal a little bit, then Ross would say something vaguely true again. Without the aid of Nat’s espionage expertise or S.H.I.E.L.D.’s direct involvement, whatever intel got to Ross was either inaccurate, common knowledge, or found out too late to be useful.

“Who’s them?” Tony said, flicking through unread emails on his phone. One from the Bugle- delete. Four from Pepper- bookmark for later. Three from R&D- hesitantly ignore. Rhodey glared at him. 

“Captain Rogers. Agent Barton. The lot,” Ross said. 

“Let me see here….,” Tony said, going through his messages, scrolling way past Peter’s bubble before holding the screen up to the camera, “Nope. No contact for ‘The Lot’.” 

“Stark, this is serious,” Ross said, then carefully added, “Without the cooperation of Rogers and vigilantes like Spider-Man-”

“Spider-Man was never on the table,” Tony fired back, setting his phone down. Rhodey’s eyes bore into the back of his skull. 

“Ever since he showed up at your Germany skuffle, he’s been in the public eye,” Ross said, “We don’t know where his loyalties lie. He’s a threat.” 

Tony blinked. 

“He’s a charismatic independent do-gooder working in Queens,” Tony said, “If he wanted to go big-scale, he would’ve by now. No one works in just Queens for the kicks of it.” 

“Exactly,” Ross said, much to Tony’s disappointment, “He’s either part of an organization or planning something. As a leader in Washington I cannot let that threat go unnoticed.”

The only thing Spider-Man was planning was what science pun T-shirt to wear tomorrow, and the only threat he posed was to low-grade muggers at Tony’s food bill , but Ross didn’t need to know that.

“Ross, I personally recruited him to try and get the Rouges back. I’d like to think you would know me enough that you’d assume I had done my homework on him. He’s clean.” 

“If you’re so sure, you would show us your homework,” Ross said back. Tony paused.

He thought back to the press conference, when Tony Stark announced to the world he wouldn’t be the only one with that last name for long. Moments before, he had been standing in front of one of his best creations ever, the Iron Spider. 

He had already envisioned Peter’s reaction. His tiny, adorable face would light up, and his hands would open up like he had just dropped something. A small smile would come to his face, and his eyes would be so wide they would threaten to roll out of his head. He would say yes, of course, no one could say no to a spot on the Avengers, and maybe, just maybe, the Compound wouldn’t feel as empty.

Life isn’t like a PG movie, however.

Peter had turned him down. In the face of higher level super-heroing, in the face of a press conference, in the face of Tony Stark and everything he would have ever wanted, Peter Parker had turned down being an Avenger. He had turned down going public. 

“If you’re not revealing what is so awful about him, that gives us enough reasons to take him in,” Ross said, “Fighting back against undocumented enhanced individuals that are free to do whatever they please is the point of the Accords.” 

“The guy has people he’s trying to protect,” Tony said, “He doesn’t need us breathing down their backs.”

“We don’t need him handling New York crime, yet here he stands,” Ross said, “He poses threat to the NYPD and has disrupted dozens of criminal investigations by interfering with evidence.”

“He has a family,” Tony said, curling his hand into a fist under the table. 

“Barton and Lang are perfect examples that family men can still go public,” Ross said.

“Yet they’re both on your superhero arrest list,” Tony said back. Ross frowned, and Rhodey nudged him under the table.

‘What?’ Tony mouthed. He was being nice. Mostly. Rhodey just glared harder. 

“They’re wanted men because they committed crimes,” Ross said, “Just like Spider-Man.” 

“Until I see a warrant for Spider-Man on my desk, I’m not divulging any information I have,” Tony said, “Besides it's all irrelevant to the case. All I have are a record of his vitals from when he got injured in Germany.” 

Ross grimaced. 

“Tony Stark, would you consider your research on Spider-Man thorough?” he said, voice steely cold. Tony shrugged.

“You already know me as someone who wouldn’t half-ass something,” Tony said, reaching under the table where a well-used red button was located.

“So if you would say your research was thorough, you would say you would know the exact civilian identity of Spider-Man,” he continued, and Tony pressed the button. 

“I would say that my research complied information I needed to know whether or not Spider-Man could be a viable ally.” Tony said, leaning back in his chair.

“Either you give us your information on the vigilante or we go after him ourselves,” Ross said, “However, without your cooperation, you won’t get a seat at the table when we discuss his relation to the Accords.”

Five, four, three, two-

“Sir, ‘Baby Monitor’ Protocol has been activated-” Friday began as Pepper burst into the room, holding several folders in one hand. This time, he jump in surprise was legitimate. Peter was supposed to be at-

“Tony, the PR is a nightmare right now,” she said, placing the papers in front of him, “I need you to sign this, then Alex is going to run the queue cards by you for the interview. Then…. Crap we’re going to have to publish last week’s report on the repulsors. And I know how the development for them has been…. lacking. We could lose serious stock.”

“You heard the woman, Ross,” Tony said, “I have to go. Company emergency.”

Before Ross could respond, the screen went dark, and Tony jumped to his feet. Rhodey did a double take, no doubt about to lecture Tony that even if the dude is a conceited dirtbag, he’s the government and you can’t just hang up on him, he can have all of us court martialed in negative two seconds- 

“Thanks for coming, he was just….” he said, trailing off.

“Ross.” she supplied, picking up the folders. They were old advertising deals, not documents that would prevent legal troubles. The queue cards, Alex, the papers on the repulsors, none of them existed. The button under the table was the Meeting Panic button- not to be abused out of boredom, but to be used as a fake excuse to get out of meetings. Pepper was an actual Saint.

“Ross.” Tony agreed, adjusting his sweatshirt as he waited for the arc reactor to flicker to life. Rhodey opened his mouth, most likely to reprimand him for being, well, Tony, but closed it once he saw the look on his face. The look of dread. When Tony left the room to escape to the workshop, neither Rhodey nor Pepper stopped him. 

“Friday, what’s the deal with Spider-kid?” he asked, glancing up at the ceiling as the lab doors shut behind him. The room whirred to life at his voice, and one of his suits assembled as if on command, standing sentry beside his main desk. 

“Boss, you asked Karen to alert you if he was in a five-mile radius with affiliates of Secretary Ross,” Friday said, and Tony cursed under his breath. 

Ross. Its always Ross that’s ruining things with Peter. 

“Why can’t it be the churro lady,” he muttered under his breath, already pulling up several holo screens, “Why don’t you give Mr. Parker a friendly call, ask him why he’s out and about on a school night, then pull up Baby Monitor footage as well as CVTV footage in the radius. If they’re there for our little tyke, do all you can to throw them off before I sort this out.”

He paused, waiting for the footage to load. Meanwhile, the ringtone of the pending call echoed throughout the lab.

“Hey…... Mr. Stark!” an unnaturally happy voice said, audio crackling through the speakers, “.....What’s up?” 

“Nothing much,” Tony said, frowning when he watched three inconspicuous black cars follow a blue-and-red blur on a deli store camera, “Say, what are you doing out so late?”

“May, she said I could stay a whole ‘nother hour out tonight,” Peter said excitedly, unaware of the slow metaphorical car noose tightening around his neck. Faintly, he could hear distorted audio, as if Peter were calling two people at once. It was too computerized to tell what they were saying, but the distress was evident. 

“Is that so?” Tony said as his suit started forming around him, nanotech bots crawling down his arms. Friday automatically transferred the call to the mask, as if she could sense his fatherly worry. 

“Yeah… Hey, is anything wrong? I mean, not that I don’t mind you calling, but like, you never call me casually. Not that that’s a bad thing, its just, you know, unusual.” 

He heard Peter trip on something and curse under his breath. For some reason, something kept him from reprimanding him. 

“No, no, everything’s fine right now,” Tony said, “Do you mind changing out of your suit right now? Last night sucked, and I was thinking Happy could pick you up and we could watch a movie. Anything but Alien. ”

There was a pause on the line. A pause that lasted too long for Tony’s comfort zone. It was almost scary how Friday already knew to open the Iron-Man window. He was out in a second. If Peter was fine, this would be just another reason to watch his blood pressure. If he wasn’t… well…

Tony didn’t know what he would do. 

“Spider-Man?” Tony asks as he takes to the sky. There is no response, “Spider-Man, did you hear me?”

“Yea, yea I heard you,” Peter said slowly, and Tony relaxes slightly, “Just uh… tired. It’s been a long night.” 

“So anyways, movie nights are an important part of workplace bonding, and you are an intern so-”

“How much red can a suit get?” Peter interrupted, asking as if the string of words he threw together made any sense.

“Excuse me, what?”

“Like, my suit is already red,” Peter said, “But now its darker red and…. Shoot don’t…. Don’t shoot me….” 

Tony’s blood ran cold, “Shoot you? P- Spider-Man, where are you?”

“I don’t… Ross?” Peter said, talking to someone near him. The thrusters on Tony’s suit go just a little faster, but not fast enough. Tony’s eyes dart to the corner of the Iron-Man interface. ETA: five minutes. Still not fast enough. 

Damn Ross. Damn Peter. Damn Thrusters. 

“Spider-Man, are you there?” Tony asks, when Peter is finally silent. No response, “Spider-Man? Spider-Man are you there-”

The line goes dead. 

The suit has never gone this fast before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just hope Peter is alright.


End file.
